Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,35
goner. Michael had never met anyone so full of everything. Curiosity, humor, boredom, annoyance—it had all flashed in her eyes as she stood on that podium in that ridiculous body stocking that barely covered her.
And then she’d flipped him off more gracefully than anybody had ever flipped him off.
All that life, all that vibrant energy she gave off, she still had it. There was more sadness in her now, but she was still Dahlia after all.
That night, when he’d gotten home and eventually fallen asleep, he’d dreamed about her.
About fuckin’ her. Angry hate sex.
The next night, he made love to her in his dreams.
And last night the dream had been a mixture of both.
A few hours later his alarm went off, and he woke up hard, frustrated and angrier than ever.
The passenger side door opened and Davis dived in, cursing under his breath, yanking Michael out of his thoughts. His partner’s suit and hair were soaked. A warm coffee aroma filled the car as Davis passed him a cup. But that didn’t appease Michael when he saw the brown paper bag in Davis’s other hand.
“You fucker.” He eyeballed what he knew were pinwheels.
His partner grinned. “Hey, I ain’t watching what I eat.”
Michael’s looked at Davis’s gut. The man was tall and lean everywhere except for his stomach, which had a small round swell to it. “Clearly.”
“Fuck you, little pissant,” Davis said congenially as he opened the brown paper bag with something akin to glee. “Come to Daddy.”
Exhaling in frustration, Michael reached into the back of the car for his own brown paper bag. Inside was a little plastic container with homemade salmon teriyaki and rice. Kiersten used to cook healthy meals for him so now he was learning to do that stuff for himself. He didn’t think he was half bad at it.
“Grow a pair and eat some real food, Mike.” Davis sneered at the rice, salmon, and salad.
Michael ignored his ribbing. He ate well six days out of seven. There was no point hitting the gym before work every day if he was going to eat shit like pastries and burgers. Michael respected his body. He gave it the fuel it needed to be strong. Even if it was torture sometimes.
“No comeback?” Davis asked. “Something’s definitely up with you. Is it Bronson? Word is out he’s bangin’ your ex.”
Michael liked Davis. He did. But the man had no fuckin’ filter or diplomacy. “I’m happy for them,” he muttered around a mouthful.
“So, what is it?”
He shrugged, not ready to talk about Dahlia or the fact that every instinct in his body told him to go to her now she was in Boston. They were like magnets. Always had been. “Night shift. Not used to it yet.”
His partner shrugged. “It takes time.”
“It’d be easier if you wouldn’t stop every five seconds for a pinwheel or a tonic.” The man was addicted to goddamn Pepsi.
“You know, I think you’d benefit from a fuckin’ pinwheel now and then. You moody little fucker.”
Michael smirked.
“Where do you think this asshole is?” Davis asked after a few seconds of quiet eating.
“Back to the girlfriend in Chelsea. My bet is she called him after we dropped by. He might think her place has the all clear for the night.”
Davis nodded.
They finished up as the rain calmed. “You’re already wet.” Michael shoved his garbage at Davis. “You can put this in the trash.”
“I had to get a neat freak, healthy-eating, gym-going motherfucker like you for a partner, huh,” Davis muttered under his breath as he got out of the car with the garbage. Michael knew some cops let shit collect in the back and on the floor of their vehicles. He wasn’t one of them. It sent a message you were a lazy cop, and Michael was anything but lazy.
“Bang a Uey,” Davis advised as he got back in the car. “Road’s quiet.”
Michael attempted to shove everything else out of his head (and by everything else, he meant Dahlia) and pulled out onto the quiet street to do a U-turn. He needed her out of his head so he could do his job.
Then he’d go home and probably have another dream about her.
Thing of it was, there was a part of Michael, an element he despised, that anticipated the dream. A part of him that whispered from down deep inside that he looked forward to the fantasy.
During the next ten days, I not only attempted to cram as much family time in with Darragh, Krista and the kids,